sleep deprivation...

What is this inside of me?

I sometimes come to the conclusion that there are more of me than my outer shell leads the world to believe.  How can just one feel so many and exaggerated emotions.  How, still, can one simple keep them inside as the masses tear and fight and kick and scream, seemingly from all the depths within.

But I am truly alone in this.

I am alone in this in that no mater what I say, I cannot fully relate the things I feel or think.  I am convinced there is something more.

How, then, can I describe the indescribable?

At what point should I start my story?  Where did the first me split from myself to become a second me in my own mind?  Was it there from the beginning or did it simply split off like a cell does in reproduction?  Am I all myself or am I others as well?

We sit and ponder, allowing one at a time to type things.  We hope one of us will make sense of it all and let the rest of us know - and inso doing, anyone else who ventures along this path - just what the hell is going on.

Perhaps there is no sense to be made; not at this time, anyway.  Perhaps the sense of it all is something that can't be made, but something that must be found instead.  After all, as I type this I see the reflection of my fingers in the screen of my shiny MacBook Pro.  Then I begin to wonder if the me that is sitting here is the me that is typing or if the me that is the reflection, or the me I perceive as being the me in the reflection is the one typing and I am solely a spectator in the events unrolling in front of my eyes.

But tonight I'm not wearing my glasses.  If I was, which me would be responsible for it all?  The one in front of the glasses?  The wearing the glasses?  One of the two blokes in the reflection, either before or behind the glasses?  Maybe it would be the me in the reflection of the reflection of my lenses, or the one in the reflection of my lenses on the reflection of my screen?

There really are multiple me sitting here at this very moment.  Unfortunately most of them are staying in check right now.  At times this is good thing.  This isn't one of them.  The good times are when I'm awake and want to be thinking about these things, confronting them even.  The bad times, however, are times like now; times I want to be sleeping but can't because other mes want to be thinking of how to let the rest of the world know...

We are here!

Whatever it is, it is not welcome at this time.  And so it is, to you, dear reader, that I pass this baton in hopes that tonight I can get some sleep.